


love and tragedy (and mostly love)

by VeryImportantDemon



Series: making history [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxious Victor Nikiforov, Insomnia, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Manic Victor Nikiforov, Nervous Victor Nikiforov, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Victor just wants Yuuri to love him, Yuuri just wants Victor to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 02:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryImportantDemon/pseuds/VeryImportantDemon
Summary: It was either very early or very late when something pouncing on the bed jolted Yuuri awake. On instinct, he shot up in bed, pulling his blankets up under his chin . He had resigned himself to an early death by intruder when a voice spoke from the darkness. “Yuuri!” the thickly accented voice cried. “Yuuri, I have an idea! Wake up, listen!”Or: Victor is anxious about his comeback and Yuuri says all the right things.





	love and tragedy (and mostly love)

It was either very early or very late when _ something _pouncing on the bed jolted Yuuri awake. On instinct, he shot up in bed, pulling his blankets up under his chin . He had resigned himself to an early death by intruder when a voice spoke from the darkness. “Yuuri!” the thickly accented voice cried. “Yuuri, I have an idea! Wake up, listen!”

“Victor?” Yuuri asked. What other Russian would be in his room this late? “What time is it?” He fumbled in the darkness for his glasses, shoving them on his face. The shape of Victor emerged clumsily from the darkness. Yuuri reached for the bedside lamp next, flicking it on and bathing them in light. Victor was on the end of the bed, sitting on his legs with papers already spread out on the bed in front of him. 

“Are you listening?” Victor prompted. “We have much to talk about, Yuuri.”

“I’m listening,” Yuuri said, rubbing his eyes. “Just hold on.” He reached for his phone on the bedside table, squinting at the time. The numbers 3:42 blinked back at him. “Vitya, it’s so early.”

“Is it?” Victor asked. “I hadn’t noticed. So, we should skate together! I already have a few ideas for music choices and choreography and costumes. We’re going to have to start working on lifts.” He grabbed a few pieces of paper, thrusting them towards Yuuri.

Still too tired too really think, Yuuri took the papers from his fiance. The center was a rough sketch of two figures, the first with the right leg bent in a lunge, the left stretched behind, and one arm wrapped around the waist and the other around the neck of the second figure. The second figure’s face was so close to the first. Their right skate was still on the ice but their right leg was stretched to the sky in a perfect line. Their right arm was back straight and their left cupped the first figure’s neck. Their costumes are very similar, a regal mash-up of what looked like a tuxedo and a wedding dress. Surrounding the sketch was a series of frantic scribbles that probably would’ve meant something to Yurio and Victor but Yuuri’s Russian was mediocre at best. He assumed they were songs or sequences of footwork but Yuuri couldn’t make it out. 

“Do you like it?” Victor prompted. 

Yuuri dragged his eyes up from the paper to find that Victor was leaning close to him, looking like Makkachin eager for a treat. His face was very, very close to Yuuri’s. 

“So much,” Yuuri said. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, the paper crinkling under his hand. “Vitya-”

Before Yuuri could continue, Victor interrupted him. “But that isn’t the only one!” he said. “I have more, look!” Victor gathered up a few more of the papers, thrusting them at Yuuri. “What do you think of these?” 

All of the papers were covered in unintelligible Russian, sketches, and numbers. They were the scribbles of a mad man. “Victor,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect,” he said. “I think the first two are my best ideas.” He shifted on the bed again, leaning forward and poking one of the sheets of paper. “In this one, my costume will be purple and yours will be blue. The program will start focused on you, and then I will skate in. I’ll lift you, we’ll do some pair skating, then you’ll dip me. Then we’ll focus on me for a bit and come back together. It’s representative of how we’re individuals but we work well together.” 

Yuuri blinked again, trying to follow Victor’s rapid-fire train of thought. He was talking so fast that his accent was causing his words to run together. 

“That sounds interesting,” Yuuri said. “But Victor, what about our solo programs this year?” 

“I can do both!” Victor said. “I’ll skate solo and as a pair.” 

“Then who’ll be my coach?” Yuuri prompted. 

“I’ll do that, too,” Victor said, smiling brightly.

“Then when will you have time to breathe, Vitya?” Yuuri asked. He reached up, touching Victor’s cheek with his right hand. Victor put his own hand over Yuuri’s. 

“I’ll have time,” he said. His face fell, almost imperceptibly. Yuuri only noticed it because he knew his fiancé so well. He doubted anyone else, save perhaps Yakov or Yurio, would have noticed at all. 

Yuuri shifted in the bed, dropping his hand, scooting closer to Victor, and pushing the mess of papers aside. He was sitting on his legs facing Victor, a look of concern drawn on his features. “Victor,” he said. “You can’t actually think you’ll have the time to do that. You’d get yourself hurt trying.”

“I can handle it,” Victor argued, but he didn’t exactly meet Yuuri’s eyes. “I’ll be fine. Now, if you are interested in the couple skate, we’ll need to get started soon working on the choreography together because the competition season is coming up quickly. Actually, now that I think about it, we can combine them!” Victor said excitedly. 

“Combine what?” Yuuri asked, growing more and more worried by the moment. 

“My two best ideas,” Victor said. He rummaged around the papers on the bed, plucking the two sheets he had described to Yuuri. He threw himself beside Yuuri to reach out to the nightstand. He dug around in the drawer, pulling out a pencil and adding some Russian scribbles. “Our theme will be love and tragedy. How you live through tragedy with the aid of love.”

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri said. “Victor.” The Russian skater didn’t look up from the papers, mumbling to himself. “Victor!” The third time his name was called, Victor still didn’t look up. “Vitya!” he shouted. “_ Yamete kudasai! Onegaishimasu! _” 

Victor stopped at that, Yuuri’s abrupt Japanese cutting through the mess of his head. Where Yuuri was learning Russian from Yurio and Victor, Victor was learning Japanese. He knew enough to know that Yuuri was stressed. 

“What’s wrong, _ solnyshko _?” he asked, his hand still on the paper now. 

“You,” Yuuri said. “Sit up, please. Look at me.”

Victor abandoned the pencil and paper which Yuuri was grateful for and sat up to face him. Yuuri finally got to really look at him. He looked tired, really tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale, standing out starkly against his silver hair. There was something on his face, a similar emotion to one that Yuuri had seen on him only once before. That was when Victor was crying before the Grand Prix because he was angry. Because he was afraid that Yuuri was going to leave him. His heart broke at the sight. 

“Vitya,” he said softly, reaching forward to cup Victor’s cheek in his hand. “I’ve never seen you like this before.” He searched for the right word for a few moments before coming up with it. “Maniac. Are you actually alright, Victor?”

Victor hesitated, his gaze flicking down for a heartbeat. He was unable to meet Yuuri’s eyes which answered the question for him. He definitely wasn’t okay. 

“Please talk to me,” he said softly. “You’re scaring me.” Yuuri dropped his hand to Victor’s shoulder, pulling his much taller fiancé close to his chest.

Victor crumpled at the touch, melting into Yuuri’s embrace. His shoulders were hunched over and shaking and seemed, if it was possible, small. Victor Nikiforov wasn’t small. He was the most decorated figure skater in history. He was larger than life. He always wore at least half a mischievous smile. But now his head was bowed and he was crying into Yuuri’s chest.

Yuuri held him tightly, holding his fiancé like his embrace was enough to ward away any terrible thing that could happen to him. “_Vse prekrasno _ , Vitya,” he murmured in Russian, stroking Victor’s hair. His accent was clunky and awkward but that wasn’t the point. The point was calming down his fiance and Russian tended to do that best. “ _ Vse prekrasno _. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Yuuri shifted his grip to pull Victor closer - Victor, whose shoulders were shaking as he cried without making a sound at all. That thought made Yuuri’s heart tighten. You didn’t cry silently without practice. That meant, over a very long time, Victor had taught himself that he couldn’t be heard when he cried which no one should feel - especially not his sweet Victor. 

Yuuri started to hum softly while he held Victor, a wordless melody from somewhere deep in his subconscious. It came from his childhood, he knew. He remembered his mother singing it and it calming him down. He wanted to share that with Victor. Anything to help him. 

Eventually, Victor’s shoulders stilled, his face still pressed into Yuuri’s chest. He mumbled something that Yuuri couldn’t quite make out but sounded a lot like _ I’m sorry. _’

“Don’t be,” Yuuri said. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for the way you feel. Never, Vitya.”

There was a long pause and Victor finally lifted his head. His eyes were rimmed with red and there were tear tracks on his cheeks. Yuuri swallowed hard, cupping Victor’s cheeks in his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. Victor sighed softly, reaching up, touching Yuuri’s left hand with his fingertips. His eyes fluttered shut and he looked almost peaceful. 

“You looked tired,” Yuuri said. “Have you been sleeping?” The past week or so had been busy. Yuuri himself was tired. But most nights lately Victor would climb into bed with Yuuri but he would be gone long before Yuuri woke. 

Victor’s eyes fluttered open and he blinked at Yuuri. “I’m alright,” he said. 

“That’s not what I asked,” Yuuri said. “Have you been sleeping?”

Victor hesitated, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he said. 

Yuuri sighed deeply, taking Victor’s hands in his own. “Do you… Want to talk about it?”

“I…” Victor trailed off, glancing up at Yuuri again like he was almost afraid to meet his eyes. That broke Yuuri’s heart, too. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” Yuuri assured him. “_ Ya ne mogu zhit’ bez tebya, _ Vitya.”

Yuuri had gotten personal instruction on that phrase. Yurio had carefully and painstakingly made sure Yuuri could correctly say _ I can’t live without you. _He wasn’t sure he did it correctly because as soon as he finished, Victor burst into tears again. 

“Oh, no,” he said. “Vitya, I’m sorry, I-”

“No, don’t,” Victor said through his soft, hiccuping sobs. “Don’t be, please.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” Yuuri said desperately, squeezing Victor’s hands. “Vitya, I want to help you. Tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” 

Victor squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. He sucked in a deep breath that sounded almost painful before he finally found it in him to speak. He opened his eyes again, looking up at Yuuri, and there was a sort of childlike innocence, a childlike fear, there. “I’m afraid, my Yuuri,” he said softly. “I’m afraid because I can’t live without you either.”

Yuuri frowned slightly, unsure of why that would be a problem. “I… I don’t understand, Vitya,” he said. “Why…”

“I don’t want to let you down,” he said softly. “I can’t… I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I can let you down. I can’t bear the thought. I’m afraid that if I go back to the ice, I’ll disappoint my fans. My friends.” He hesitated, unable to hold Yuuri’s gaze the whole time. “You. “

“You could never let me down,” Yuuri said. He squeezed Victor’s hands gently again. “Why do you think that?” 

Victor freed one hand from Yuuri’s to brush his tears away a little angrily. “You fell in love with me because of my skating. If I go back to the ice and I’m not the skater I was…” Victor trailed off again, unable to finish his sentence. “I’m afraid…”

Yuuri took the liberty of finishing for him. “You’re worried I won’t love you anymore,” Yuuri said softly.

Victor looked up, his eyes shining with tears. He looked younger and more vulnerable than Yuuri had ever seen him. “Yes,” he said. “How did you know?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Yuuri said. He knew because he’d felt that way before. He hadn’t for a while, but he still remembered the feeling. “Vitya, look at me,” he said. 

“I am looking,” Victor said softly. 

“Really look,” Yuuri said. He held up his left hand where his gold ring glinted in the soft light of the bedroom. “Look at this. I wouldn’t marry you if I only loved you because of your skating. Your skating was what drew me towards you in the first place, but it wasn’t what I fell in love with. I fell in love with you because…” Yuuri faltered, trying to find the right words. “Because you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. Your _ heart _is beautiful. I’ve never met someone who cares as much as you do. Who’s willing to drop an entire year of their career to help someone he’d only really met once. Someone who would fly to another country to see his dog. Victor Nikiforov, no matter how you skate, you are the brightest, handsomest, best man on Earth and I could never, ever stop loving you.”

Yuuri pulled his fiance closer to him, squeezing him tightly. Victor’s face was pressed into Yuuri’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms around the shorter Japanese man. He bunched up the back of Yuuri’s shirt in his hands. Yuuri could feel Victor’s fingertips against his back and hear the Russian taking deep, shuddering breaths into his chest. Yuuri started humming softly again into Victor’s hair. He just wanted him to feel happy, safe, and loved. 

Eventually, Victor pulled his head up from Yuuri’s chest to lay his head on Yuuri’s shoulder. “You smell nice,” he said softly. 

Yuuri smiled softly. “Thank you,” he said. He ran his fingers through Victor’s hair a few times. “You do, too.”

Victor made a sound that seemed a lot like what a cat would make, nuzzling closer to Yuuri. “_ Anata nashide wa iki rarenai _,” he murmured, his pronunciation slow and careful and his accent out of place and his voice so, so beautiful.

“_ Ya ne mogu zhit’ bez tebya _,” Yuuri repeated. He couldn’t help but smile at the soft, content sigh that Victor made as he finally settled down. 

“Are you ready to go to sleep now?” Yuuri asked. 

Instead of speaking, Victor hummed in acknowledgment. 

Yuuri pulled his glasses off, setting them on the nightstand. “Here, lay flat,” he said. “If you sleep like that, you’ll be sore in the morning.”

Victor obediently flopped back onto the bed but was unwilling to relinquish all contact with Yuuri. His leg was still resting on Yuuri’s thigh. “Will you stay?” he asked softly.

“Always,” Yuuri said. Careful not to hurt Victor, Yuuri draped himself over his chest, his ear right above Victor’s heart, echoing a pose from a night that seemed so long ago.

There was absolutely nowhere else Yuuri would rather be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yamete kudasai! Onegaishimasu!- Stop it! Please!  
Vse prekrasno - You're okay  
Ya ne mogu zhit’ bez tebya - I can't live without you  
Anata nashide wa iki rarenai - I can't live without you


End file.
